


True Face

by freckledfoxes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledfoxes/pseuds/freckledfoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://wincestiel.co.vu/post/50560389248/angels-dont-see-real-faces-right-they-see-souls">this post</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleheavens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleheavens/gifts).



A rush of air escapes Dean’s lips like he’d been punched in the gut. His mouth works around a name that will not come out of his throat and his head is spinning so fast that he thinks he might fall over if he weren’t already sitting down. He’d lost a lot of hope in ever hearing from him again; he’d stopped looking, figuring he either died on impact, or stayed in Heaven, locked away from the rest of the universe for at _least_ the rest of Dean’s lifetime.

“Dean?” Cas’ confused, and utterly familiar voice comes over the phone again. “Is this—Do I have the wrong number?”

“Uh—H-Hey… Hey, Cas,” Dean finally mutters after a moment, his voice strained. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat, running a hand over his face.

“Dean, are you alright?” came Cas voice again, worry leaking into his tone now.

“Wha—Am _I_ alright? Cas—Are _you_ alright? Where the hell _are_ you, man?”

“Chinatown.” Cas says simply after a brief pause. Dean waits, but Cas supplies nothing further.

“You wanna elaborate? There have gotta be at _least_ 200 Chinatowns in the US alone.”

There’s a pause. “Chicago. I’m—I’m in Chicago, Dean.”

“Do you need me—to come get you?” Dean asked slowly, voice catching slightly.

There’s another pause, this one longer. Dean thinks for a moment that maybe he’s lost the call, and he’s about to say Cas’ name, but Cas finally speaks. “Why would you do that?” Cas’ voice is quiet, muffled.

Dean frowned deeply. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Do you not _want_ me to get you?”

Cas makes a startled sound. “No! I—I mean, yes. Yes, I do want you—to come and get me. I don’t have a way to get to you, otherwise. The bus fare is more than I’ve ever been able to save up at once without it getting stolen or--.”

“I can be there sometime around 3 in the morning if I leave within the next half hour. Can you go somewhere and stick to it for a while?” Dean asked, pulling on his boots and glancing at Sam’s worried expression coming from the library.

“There’s a restaurant where I can stay until it closes. I usually—I usually sleep in the alley outside there.” Cas’ voice is quiet again.

Something tugs at Dean’s chest painfully. His frown deepens and he swallows painfully around the lump in his throat. “Okay. S’this your phone or a payphone you’re using?”

“Payphone.”

Dean sighed. “Okay. You gotta way to keep track of the time?”

“Yes. I have a watch. It should be right.”

“Okay. Be around the phone around 8 and 1, okay? That way I can be sure you’re still around?”

“Yes, Dean. Of course,” Cas said softly. “Dean—“

“I’m headed out the door now, okay, Cas? Be about 10 or 11 hours.”

Cas was silent again for a moment before Dean heard him sigh softly. “Yes. Okay. Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. You just stay safe. Be careful. And be around the phone at those times, got it?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Cas.”

Dean hung up and gave Sam a quick wave before heading out the door without another word.

~

Cas sat in the alley, sweatshirt and jacket pulled tightly around himself. It wasn’t cold, exactly. It was the end of August in Chicago, where hot, muggy nights were pretty standard. But Cas felt better with the layers wrapped around him; felt safer. It was a quarter past 3 in the morning, and even though Dean said it might be a bit later since he hit rush hour right away, Cas still worried he might not actually be coming. The thought of Dean not showing, of Dean giving him a bit of his own medicine, made Cas’ stomach turn. It scared him more than anything, but it hurt, too, and it might have been the worst thing he’d really felt in his entire existence thus far.

There’d been a lot of things that he hated about being human already. Constantly being hungry, being too exhausted to stay awake to protect what little belongings he had. He hated waking up with his pants uncomfortably tight around his genitals. He hated money and the fact that he had no practical way of getting it. What little money he could acquire he usually gave up to people who looked much worse off than he felt; the elderly or young families he saw that littered shelter lines and alleyways. People with hardly anything left on their fragile bones.

He’d managed to scrape up enough change, and enough courage, to finally call Dean that night. He’d fought with himself for hours and wasted a few quarters on dialing then hanging up. But the last call, he didn’t get to hang up before Dean answered. And it was like the Heavens had opened back up to him when he heard Dean’s voice.

So now Cas sat, waiting quietly, eyes shifting around suspiciously in case anyone tried to give him any trouble. It wouldn’t be long now. It couldn’t be. No matter how many times Cas had left or hurt Dean, Dean always seemed to welcome him back. He hoped this time wouldn’t be different and Dean would welcome him back like the old friend Cas hoped he still was.

 

Cas’ ears perked up at the sound of an engine rumbling down the street. It was an unmistakable sound, one he’d heard countless times before from the inside and out. He’d know it anywhere. He got to his feet and hurried to the curb, staring down the road at the black Chevy Impala that rolled its way toward Cas. It pulled up beside him and Cas stared for a moment before opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat with ease.

Cas looked over at Dean in the driver’s seat, and all at once he was taken aback.

Cas was not an Angel anymore. He was human with human abilities and human limitations and certainly human eyes. He couldn’t see inside any other person as much as any other human could see inside of him. He could when he was an Angel. He saw souls as if they were the humans themselves. Seeing faces at first had been strange, but they all began to look the same, much like souls did.

So when he looked at Dean, whose face was completely unobstructed by the brightness of his soul for the first time but was still just a beautiful as it had been when all Cas saw _was_ a soul, Cas couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away and he certainly couldn’t breathe or even hear what Dean said when his lips moved.

“Earth to Cas? Hey, you with me?” Dean’s voice faded into clarity finally. “Dude, what’s wrong. You look like someone just—“  
“ _Dean_.” The name fell from Cas’ mouth with such a force that it stopped Dean mid-sentence. Cas just stared for a moment before reaching over and touching his fingers lightly to Dean’s cheek. Heat flushed up against Cas’ touch under Dean’s skin, but Cas kept going, sliding his hand back to cup the side of Dean’s face.

“Cas—“ Dean’s voice wavered, tapering off at the end. Cas watched as Dean’s Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down with a swallow. His eyes traveled up over Dean’s jaw, his lips, over his nose and back to his eyes.

“Dean… You’re face,” Cas said quietly.

“What about it?”

“You’re just… I’ve never seen your face before—“

“What? You’ve known me for years and you’ve never seen my _face_?” Dean went to lean away but Cas reached out with his other hand and cupped the other side of Dean’s face. Cas held him between his hands, fingers grazing over the shell of Dean’s ear and the corner of his jaw.

“I’ve only seen your soul. I only ever saw souls before,” Cas’ voice is barely a whisper and Dean’s expression is one of pure astonishment.

“This is the first time you’ve actually seen _me_?”

“Your real, physical face. Yes.”

“Holy—Cas—“

Cas surged forward then, holding Dean’s face tightly between his hands, and crushed his lips against Dean’s. He felt Dean tense, but it was brief, and then Dean was opening his mouth, parting his lips to Cas without another moment’s hesitation. Dean’s hands found their way into Cas’ sweatshirt, sliding their way around his waist to pull him close. Cas just held on to Dean’s face, fingers tracing lightly over cheekbones and brow bones and hairlines.

They parted after just a few moments, their breaths coming heavy and hot, faces still close enough that they were only breathing each other’s air. Dean rested his forehead against Cas’ and let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes.

“Cas?”

Cas’ eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s, which were now looking up at his own. They were impossibly green, Cas noted, and as bright as Dean’s soul had been when Cas could see it before. Cas thought maybe he could still see Dean’s soul in those eyes.

“Cas, I’m glad you finally called,” Dean said, voice warm and his touch tender as his fingers grazed lightly over the delicate skin of Cas’ neck.

Cas just smiled then and nodded, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with fresh air as Dean pulled back a bit more to start the car up again. Cas leaned his head back against the headrest, his hand finding Dean’s on the seat between them as he just kept staring intently at Dean’s face, so new yet familiar and just as beautiful as his soul.

Dean looked over at him. “You gonna stare at my beautiful mug the whole way home now, Cas?” he asked, his tone fond and not annoyed, like Cas was use to whenever Dean use to comment on the staring the “personal space.”

Cas just nodded slowly, content enough to just stay silent and stare adoringly over at Dean.

Dean gave a small chuckle and nodded once. “Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t, I suppose,” he said softly as he pulled away from the curb and started back toward home.


End file.
